Adnan Khoury
'History' Before Adnan Khoury was born, a man named Jabbar Fakhouri challenged the current Usar, as well as many other contendors, defeating them all and emerging as the newest Usar to the sands of Mekti. He was a great warrior. He was an acceptable man. Usar Fakhouri, however, grew fat and grew arrogant during his rule. Ignoring any issues of state that were not bettering his own grandeur or luxury, it was ignored. His rule lasted its duration, and then the challenge was made yet again to see who would lead their people for the next few years. The people were pleased to know this pompous magistrate would not be there for long; but this, too, did not come to bear fruit. One after another, sickness and weakness plagued those who would battle for their honor. The way was made clear, and he was now the unchallenged leader of Mekti to everyone's disgust and surprise. Dismissed as circumstance by some, most suspected, but Fakhouri assured that, if there was foul play, it was independent of him by some manner of foolish-thinking patriots wishing to keep this golden age of his reign continuing onward. He ruled for twenty four years unchallenged, growing more openly corrupt and powerful with each day. Using the wealth the nation had freely and without recourse, and little care to administration, Mekti sank into a recession they had scarcely been able to imagine beforehand. The tribes grew fractious and wars opened between them, murders and blood debts and challenges for territories rich in resources abounded. The decline was slow, but in time, it all happened... and found their people disappearing who might object. Rumors circulated that they were being sold as slaves for labor, pleasure and otherwise to Jallen. While this happened, the tribes fractured under his guidance, growing more disparate and mistrustful of one another, dividing lines purposefully fanned by those in power. His own tribe was an influential set, his mother and father meager amidst their people but everyone could tell from the young Khoury's fire that he would not be so easily subdued into mediocrity and service. Noble service, perhaps, but it was not his goal. He first grew to emulate his eldest brother, seeking to find himself as a soldier, but even this became too rigid and without aim for him. Instead, he sought to better himself in as many tasks as he could, becoming a middling talent at a dozen things rather than a master of any; this focus seemed to slip, however, when he found battle when he was eleven. He was entrusted to hold a blade... and a knife... and a whip... and soon every weapon. As before, he devoured the excitement of new knowledge, but every contest against another man was new, fresh, exciting knowledge. Every member of his family was incredibly frustrated with him for his eclectic passions, his military talents, but his refusal to serve and bring stability and honor to his blood, but he looked instead towards leadership, finding in the tribe's leader Amid the manner of mentor and perhaps even father he truly wished for; it was with him he spent his days and nights, with many aspersions cast upon them both, fairly or otherwise. But he was being groomed, educated and conditioned for the potential of one day being a great man. Adnan turned twenty long before the corruption was evident. His difficult trial passed, he was shaping up with the potential to be a skilled ruler of his own tribe, and he got to watch - and even take part - as war happened. As battles of blood between his tribe and others distracted them all from the true cause. It took years before his mother, desperate, pleaded him to focus. The man was adamant that he couldn't leave their tribe in such a time of duress, but was pressed, that the only way that the duress could be abated ... was if its source was ended. Sent on to his quest, he sought the capital, and pronounced himself to the great challenge. He was there to kill, not merely defeat, Jabbar Fakhouri and assume the role and responsibilities of guiding all the now-fractious tribes of Mekti. Usar Fakhouri was certain in his actions, and strode into the dunes, to confront his challengers. Many of Fakhouri's most leal servants had also joined into the challenge, many of them the same names that had joined the years prior. He bore with him the ritual blade and Fakhouri, certain in his skills and his bribery, overconfident. The ritual was perfect for his plans - once ordered to commence, the challenge is done in private, away from civilization, until a winner is declared. Fakhouri, of course, brought friends, who were bribed to ignore formalities and insure him the man to walk free. The odds were in every way against Adnan. After the hidden challenge ended, Adnan dragged himself back to civilization slowly but carefully, his skin ashen and pale when he collapsed at the border of the encampment. He awoke with a healer by his side, a woman named Yasmin, who swore she would aid him if he were strong enough to deserve it. She promised him that the world was his, now; and that the people would rejoice to see Fakhouri left behind. He was still weak from the battle when he assembled the heads of the tribes of Mekti. He proclaimed that he had divined those who had sought to usurp lands unfairly, who had benefited under Fakhouri's corrupt reign, who had undermined Mekti, who were in league with the vile false Usar. And he called names out. Those who were called approached, and were slain where they stood. Innocent men. Guilty men. A man he had considered nearly a father, the head of his own tribe. It was impossible to truly know who had done the illest of deeds, but Adnan knew that innocent blood must be spilt to ensure the prosperity of Mekti. So too must his own tribes' blood spill, to ensure none suspected he was favoring another. After this purge, none challenged him, and it seemed tribal conflicts suddenly and instantly ended - in fear, more than in loyalty, at first, but it was enough. It was the first step. And since that day, Adnan has kept that steady, iron-fisted grasp. Fear was most important to ensure solidarity. But steadily, surely, he has earned their trust and their loyalty, as the fierce and cunning Prince has increased, then increased again, sales and trade between the lands in the seven years hence both within their borders and to their neighbors. But he is not a mercy to his people; firm, but fair, he seeks to return glory to an unified Mekti, to guide it with his bloody hand. It is in this new prophecy that he strikes on that purpose. To bring his people together not by fear of him, but for lust of greatness; only one shall stand as supreme sovereign of Domhain Byd, and so he declared, it would be the Tmek. 'Knowledge' The Usar of Mekti did not attain his position without considerable proficiencies. Despite his outwardly brutish appearance, the man is cunning and quick as a whip in his planning and execution. While this does not always mean flawless victories, he is well known for snatching success at any cost. It is a trait that has endeared him to his people, bringing glory again to their sand. Military strategy has become a comfortable skin for him. Governance is a task that initially was difficult for the man, who was somewhat unprepared for the logistics of leading these disparate people who aligned themselves below him, but in the years he has grown both a resentment and a proficiency for the task. While the social aspects of it are still often difficult, leaving him gruff and iresome to deal with, the practical matters of it are something he has nearly mastered. Of special note is his martial prowess. More or less bred for war, he is an implacable combatant, particularly skilled with blades of all manner, or brutish battle fought by his own hands. It was with his bare hands that he beat to unconsciousness the second to last, then strangled the last of his contendors for the title, freeing Mekti from a corrupt leadership with nothing more than the strength of his impressive arms. A good shot, he is also proficient at horseback and mounted archery, although by far not the premier amongst his people. While deadly, he is far more terrifying when you are within arms reach of him. Unfortunately, he is incredibly well versed in religion, and is an avid worshipper. To the man, the edicts of Gods and prophecies are very real, palpable things. In this day and age, this is a boon to no man. 'Personality' A merciless, iron-fisted bastard, he is free of hesitation or pause when an issue is aroused - decisive and final, he pays no attention to what tribe or origin men come from, not even a predilection towards his own tribal roots. Sharp-minded and wily, he never acts the paupered prince, but often does the lazy, inattentive, disinterested lord... both because he does in fact find many contemptuously beneath notice, but also to lull those who do not realize the offered idle banter and drink are like the wag of a cat's tail. He is always, eternally, ready to pounce, to act. Critical and impassioned, he knows exactly what he wants, knows what is best for those he protects, and is willing to make any sacrifice for the betterment of his people, or at the least, their worth. Never will a word of defeat or complaint usher free his lips - he does not seem sensible to the idea of failure or doubt. A pride in him that threatens danger, but also promises rightly strength. While dark-minded and severe, he is still many times over the man his predecessor was. The lack of tolerance for nonsense and the drive to always find something new and exciting to overcome has done nothing but caused his people to flourish, nurturing the dessicated seed left behind by Fakhouri into the fruits that now gorge his people. For it, they love him, and for it, they serve, for he possesses a set of qualities Fakhouri never did; transparency and accountability. Admittedly, they are too often measured in blood.